Life and Death
by DreamingMyDreams
Summary: It was a lovely night to be walking home, despite the chill of the wind . . .


**Disclaimer: **I do not own any of these characters, the Silence belong to Steven Moffat and the BBC, although I do own the girl, but I have no idea who she is. She just appeared in my mind.

Anyway, please enjoy and give feedback, any and all.

* * *

><p>The streets were quiet at this time of night, something that the teen was grateful for. It had been a long day at work and she was eager to return home, perhaps to take a long bath before retiring for the night.<p>

_Maybe just a shower, I'm so dead_ . . . she groaned inwardly, cursing the cold wind that ruffled her clothes and hair.

A scuffle of footsteps had her twirling, body on edge.

There was nothing behind her.

Shrugging, she continued on her way, eyes darting around the dark crevices of the quiet street.

A groan close by had her stop, hand clutching her bag.

"Hello?" she called nervously, hoping to whichever god was listening that whatever she had heard was just a cat, or some other stray animal.

A funny sort of purring noise made her tense up further, her foot landing in a puddle of . . . was that . . . blood? Gasping, she jumped away from the thick liquid, eyes again furtively scanning the dark street. Warily, she slowly walked towards an alleyway that lead onto another small street, her hand flying to her mouth at what she saw before her.

A man? No, that was not a man! An . . . _alien_ was before her on the ground, lying on its side, its large hand clutching at a heavily bleeding wound on its chest. Her whimper caught the things attention and she gulped loudly as it looked up at her.

It was not pretty . . . but the girl supposed that she had seen worse . . . _monsters_ on television.

_It's certainly far prettier than a Yautja_, she mused, still unsure why her friend had taken such a liking to the creatures.

The wounded alien groaned again, its arms quivering violently before it finally collapsed onto its back, breathing heavily.

Without thinking, she ran to it, kneeling at its side, her fear forgotten.

"Wha . . . what happened to you?" she murmured to it, hesitantly touching it on its shoulder.

The alien did not respond, its breath rasping in its chest.

"I can help you . . . I'll call an ambulance! Just let me –"

"I am dying, human."

"But I can . . . please, let me help!"

Small, cold black eyes glanced at her, holding her gaze unwaveringly until the teen flinched and lowered her eyes.

"There . . . is nothing . . . that you can do . . . for me . . ."

Her eyebrows lowered into a frown, bottom lip quivering. Very carefully, she shakily placed her hand over the alien's hand that was clutching the wound on its chest, the alien surprisingly allowing the contact.

"Can I . . . stay with you at least?"

Something did not bode well inside of her with just leaving the alien to die on its own. It did not seem right, despite the creature not being human.

The alien's eyes met hers again, seeming to ponder, before it nodded its head softly.

"Are you in pain?" she asked quietly after a time, knowing that it was a stupid thing to ask, but asking anyway.

This . . . _human_ cared for his wellbeing, but why? His species ruled her kinds lives, enslaved them!

He thought for a moment, debating with himself with what to tell her. He was in pain. A great deal of pain in fact. Every time he breathed, his wounds burned and caught on their edges, his blood steadily rushing out of him. Slowly, he was becoming weaker and weaker, his mind, once sharp and full of arrogant brilliance, was now foggy.

_Weak. _

He hated weakness. Despised it in himself and other beings.

"No . . . I am not . . ." he lied.

The girl frowned, clearly not believing him, but not arguing with him.

"Are you male or female?" she murmured, curious.

"Male."

Her questioning was irritating him, but it was helping to take his mind off the pain, as was the soft contact of her hand on his.

Carefully, she settled herself more comfortably beside the alien, her hand still lightly touching his. His blood was making a mess of her dress and boots but the girl cared little. She was at a loss as to what to do for the alien, the only thing that she could offer him was some sort of comfort as he lay dying.

Gently, she removed her hand from his shoulder and hesitantly stroked over his large, slick forehead, the alien seeming to not mind or at least tolerate the touch. His hand underneath hers twitched and carefully she linked her fingers with his much longer ones and squeezed gently, the alien weakly returning the gesture.

The sting of tears pricked at her eyes and she blinked rapidly, trying to clear them, but thick drops ran down her cheeks, splashing into her lap. Those first few drops seemed to be the opener of the floodgates and before she knew it, tears were streaming rapidly down her cheeks, her body quivering.

To steady herself, she counted the rise and fall of his chest beneath their linked hands, alarmed that he was now breathing only once or twice every minute.

She squeezed his hand, but the alien this time did not return her gesture. Holding her breath, she waited for him to breathe again, praying that he would somehow miraculously fight the clutches of death.

He did not breathe.

There was no shuddering gasp, no bubbling of blood from his nose, no sudden twitch of limbs. He simply lay, cold and waxy as if he were only sleeping. Nudging him almost desperately, she hoped that he would wake and perhaps say something scathing regarding her foolishness.

He did not respond.

She shook his hand in hers, nauseous at the sticky feeling of blood between their linked fingers.

Still, the alien gave no response.

Gulping down a fresh wave of tears, she leaned in close to his face, turning her head to the side to listen for his breathing.

Nothing. Not even a tiny whistle of air.

"I told you . . . to let me call an ambulance . . . why? Why didn't you let me? I could have saved you!"

She never wanted this. A death on her hands. She was innocent, completely free of any sins.

Until this night.

Until she had stumbled upon him.

Why would someone want to hurt him? Had he done something to them? Had he killed someone close to them, as they killed him? Or had he simply been walking down a street, minding his own business when they attacked him?

Questions and what ifs raced through her mind, the teen desperately trying to cling to some sort of logic, something that would ease the pain. She had not known him, but she had sat with him as he died.

Now . . . now she would have to deal with the consequences of someone else's actions.

A stranger. A murderous, hideous stranger who had not the slightest respect for another's life.

The drying blood between her fingers and on her clothes repulsed her, made her feel faint and sad and so many different things all at once. It was confusing and heart wrenching and she prayed that somehow, she would no longer have to live with this pain, this despair.

The sobs came anew and she sniffed, shaking and coughing, feeling close to vomiting, murmuring over and over to his body that she was sorry, sorry that she could not save him.

When the pain and despair had been cried out of her, somehow, the teen was able to feel a slight . . . happiness . . . yes, happiness. She was glad, no grateful, that she had been privileged enough to be with him as he died, to hold his hand and offer him some sort of comfort.

Wiping the last of her tears with the back of her arm, she licked her lips and shyly bent to place a soft kiss on his forehead, lingering for a few seconds before slowly righting herself.

Quiet footfalls had her stiffen, her eyes squinting in the darkness as three tall shapes emerged before her, the same strange purring noise emanating from them. As they entered her line of vision, she gasped, now clearly recognising them as more of whatever alien species he had belonged to.

Stumbling to her feet awkwardly, she stuttered, "I'm sorry! I didn't kill him, it wasn't me! I found him and I sat with him, please, it wasn't me!"

One of the humanoids broke apart from his brethren and approached her, standing only a foot away from her. She shivered and trembled, but she refused to back down from the frightening alien, even daring to meet his eyes. The teen supposed she looked a filthy mess to the aliens, tears and snot and blood staining her skin and clothes.

Black eyes searched hers, analysing her memories of the event and purred contentedly at finding no lie. A second humanoid approached them and handed the one she was facing off with a cloth of some sort before moving with the third alien to their dead brethren.

Slowly, he placed a large hand on the trembling teen's shoulder, pleased when she did not flinch from him. With his other hand, he gently used the cloth, which appeared to be damp, to wipe away evidence of the alien's blood from her hands and arms. This final act of kindness for her had the girl weeping again and without thinking, she flung her arms around the humanoid's waist and sobbed into his chest.

Startled and only a little bit disgusted, the humanoid allowed her to cry into his suit, staining the expensive material. What should have angered him and resulted in her death, only faintly annoyed him and he hesitantly placed a hand on her back, rubbing gently.

Gradually, her sobs lessened and the girl, with some reluctance, let go of the alien and smiled faintly, sadness tinging what would have normally been a shy, pretty smile.

"Thank you." she murmured, arms now by her side.

He tilted his head to her and gently grasped her chin with his thumb and first finger. Still with the same amount of gentleness, his mind slipped into hers and wiped her memories of the event. Her eyes glazed over and he used this moment to carefully turn her away from him and the scene behind him. With a slight push to her upper back, he set her on her way, the teen stumbling before pausing and shaking her head, giggling at her clumsiness.

It was a lovely night to be walking home, despite the chill of the wind.

But why did she feel so sad?

Fin.

**Note: **The idea for this was based off the end of another story involving the Silence. One line seemed to strike a cord with me, so this little thing popped into my mind. I wanted to show that they can be nice (sort of) and they aren't simply cold-blooded killers. Also I made them male since I figured it would easier to relate to them. Plus writting 'it' all the time is very annoying, not to mention rude.

_Flame if you like, I'm cold and need something to warm me up. Plus I can use the flames to make cookies. _


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